Tag: cool stuff

There are many items that my long-suffering, non-larking partner finds it hard to get his head around. Some I can understand; my rookie mudlark days saw me bringing home half the foreshore, including any piece of bashed up glass shard, so long as it had an imprint on it.

Buttons however, especially livery, military and utility buttons, even he can appreciate the thirst for those. “I suppose this connects you directly to the past, fusing you to someone you’ll never know, or meet, but you’re directly linked”, he said.

That’s exactly what the appeal is.

Not every button is easily identifiable, some military and utility buttons were simply impressed with a generic ‘Double Edge Ring’, ‘Suspender’, ‘Best Ring Edge’, or similar, however, since the latter half of the eighteenth century, makers began to brand their buttons with ‘back marks’.

Of course, once the buttons are up and out of the anaerobic mud of the Thames, the very stuff that preserves them, they are tossed around by time and tide, and can lose their visible marks. Despite this, with a little perseverance, and a lot of primary and secondary research, you can usually get your maker.

Internet Good/Internet Bad, no matter. What the online world offers is means to immediate secondary research. In addition to net scouring, I read actual text from actual books with paper in, plus speak to local people in the area where I made the find. Pieces soon start to fall into place.

The button pictured left was found near Greenwich, and, with a little help from a keen local, we’ve attributed it to a staff member at the Royal Hospital.

Other interesting traceable buttons I’ve found, led me back to Bishopp & Harrington of 69 Eastcheap (shown in the photo at the top of this post), and Parfitt, Roberts & Parfitt, sword makers and military tailors of Jermyn St, more information about them, including them potentially harbouring a criminal, here.

My favourite button by far, and, so far, is from the clothier Edward Grove of Lambeth – it’s my favourite not because of the object itself, but the research it led me to. The branding was not easily legible, but I filled in the blanks and tapped in the information online. Not expecting to find too much, I was happily surprised when a wealth of information sprang forth, including beautiful printed posters stored at The British Library and Lambeth Council. Curiously, there is also a record from The Old Bailey about a court case concerning one of their employees. What is it with tailors and crime?

In April 1862, one Richard Paynter was up before the beak at the Old Bailey, accused of stealing a coat from his master, Edward Grove. Read the full story here. Someone really had it in for Paynter, as he was immediately up again for the same charge, different master, different garment. That story here.

By 1895 E Grove had branched out to mechanics, painters, butchers and sailors clothing, with additional premises at 272 and 274 Edgware Road.

I hope I’ve gone some way to honouring the simple button in so much as piquing your interest, at least. If you find yourself out on the foreshore and pick up one of these beauties, I implore you to delve back into history and see what you can find.

Click through the gallery below for a selection of related images, including the original Old Bailey court proceedings.

Now available to buy in my online shop, an occult folk art inspired box frame display made from repurposed finds from the mysterious tidal Thames.

Tiny metal objects, my favourite foreshore bits and pieces, include copper, brass, iron, lead, tin and alloys, and feature treasured objects such as hand made Tudor pins and hand forged nails, which can date from 15th to late 19th century.

Other small metal objects used are watch parts, fasteners, clasps, curled metals, sea tumbled items, rivets, nail heads. I arrange the objects in the same way I design sigils, with an intention in mind, to bring luck, and ward off evil.

All of the metal items used in this piece of art was found on the foreshore close to Southwark Bridge. The glass fronted box frame is brand new.

Have a look through the other items I have rescued and repurposed as art pieces. Some of them functional and personalised, like my contemporary take on witch bottles, others wearable pieces. Click here to view Old Father Thames Shoppe.

❄️Mudlark’s Advent, Day 7❄️
Jacks, Snobs, Knucklebones, Chuckstones… what do you know it as?

Dating back to before the Greeks, the game of Chucks (I’m going with this name, as China clay dice, like this one I found on the foreshore, were used) has been as big a mainstay in the playground as hopscotch or catch.

It is “a traditional children’s game, played the world over, for which there is no formal organising body. Consequently, rules vary from country to country and place to place.
The game is also known by a variety of names including Jackstones, Chuckstones, Dibs, Dabs, Fivestones, Otadama, Tally and Knucklebones. All that is needed to play the game of Chucks is five small clay squares.”

” The simplest throw consists in tossing up one stone, the jack, and picking up one or more from the table while it is in the air. This continues until all five stones have been picked up. Another throw consists in tossing up first one stone, then two, then three and so on, and catching them on the back of the hand.”

Alternatives to the squares can be pretty much anything of a similar size – originally sheep knucklebones were used.”
Actually the ‘knucklebones’ used were astragalus, bones in a sheep ankle, or hock.

I knew the game as Jacks, but instead of clay dice, metal or plastic spikes connected to a central base were used. My grandmother kept a set in her old bureau. I never really got the hang of the game, but spent hours pinging them along her old chintz carpet, only to spend further hours trying to retrieve them from under the settee.

The game was relatively simple on the surface of it, chucking the squares up and catching them on the back of your hand, but variations of hand positions with names such as ‘riding the elephant’ and ‘sending the people to church’ made things a bit more tasty.

Other permutations including the use of a bouncy ball and clapping ones hands between catches. Not so simple after all!

Fly button by Parfitt, Roberts & Parfitt, sword makers and military tailors of Jermyn St. London.

“Parfitt, Roberts & Parfitt are mentioned in the 1874 publication, A London Directory for American Travelers, listed as tailors operating at 75 Jermyn Street. They appear again in Peterson’s guide book to England and Wales, with maps and plans, 1888 at the same address. In the London Gazette, Issue 27300, published 29 March 1901, they published a bankruptcy petition against one J.J. Vickers.”

Parfitt, Roberts & Parfitt continued to trade until 1905, they are listed in London and its Environs, Handbook for Travellers by Karl Baedeker.
Whilst researching, I found a snippet of this intriguing article from the Morning Chronicle London, dated 27 Jan 1862:

POLICE INTELLIGENCE — SATURDAY:
“A man named James O.TBryaoo (O’Bryan, perhaps?) was charged before Mr. sen Tyrwhitt (Sen? Interesting that Charles Tyrwhitt now sells shirts on Jermyn Street) with being found concealed on the premises of Messrs. Parfitt, Roberts, and Parfitt, military tailors, with the intent to commit a felony. sid *e A porter (Sidney A Porter? Or just A porter?) in the house, named Newton, found, while…”

The article text ends there. Sir Isaac Newton did indeed live on Jermyn Street, I’ve not found anything out about Newton House yet, perhaps it was a local name for his old dwelling? Or is just a porter named Newton, in the house?

I absolutely adore finding buttons, especially when there are clues attached, that make it a lot easier to trace the history and stories attached to the object.

A small yet mighty shaving brush just like this one was once in the firing line for the death of a man:
“At Hull, on September 9, when the inquiry into the cause of the death of Joseph Taylor was resumed, a verdict of ” Death from anthrax ” was returned. Deceased purchased a shaving brush, to which was attached a label stating ” British made. Free from anthrax,” while on holiday at Scarborough.

Medical evidence states death was due to anthrax, but the city analyst said he had been unable to trace any anthrax bacilli in the brush. The jury expressed no opinion as to the source of infection.”